Death Is Only Hard On The People Left Behind
by VirtusFortitudoEtSapientia
Summary: On the evening before the anniversary of his mothers' death, Kyoya confides in his best friend. It seems that the Ootori heir - once a glutton for self-punishment - has finally learned to let go. One-shot. Complete.


**Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, profit from this story and all creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator(s).**

**A/N: Inspired by a conversation about the kindness of Death on those who suffer; In Loving Memory of Sam Chubb, Beloved Husband, Brother, Father, Uncle and Friend. My Great-Uncle.**

* * *

"Do you think Death is truly evil?"

Tamaki looked up from his brochures and eyed his best friend with a befuddled expression.

"Wha…?"

Kyoya chuckled, socked feet crossed on the coffee table and his notebook forgotten on the floor beside him. "The depiction of Death – the Grim Reaper, Father Time, Angel of Death, Devil of Death. You know-"

"Death. Yeah, I get it. What's brought this on? You're not usually one to be so speculative, my friend. Weren't you saying just the other day that death was just a fact, not anything to be curious about?"

The brunet eyed the blond impassively for a moment, and then hummed, adjusting his glasses. "No, I suppose I'm just in that kind of mood this evening."

"You need vodka."  
"…I hope that was a plural."

It was Tamaki's turn to laugh. "What do you take me for?"

The pair grinned at each other as Tamaki crossed Kyoya's bedroom, pulling an unopened bottle from behind a painting – one of the Host Kings own, the blond noted, holding back a proud smile – with a flourish, eliciting a wider smile from his friend at his antics.

"Imported from Russia herself, I see."

"Only the best for the best." The Shadow King nodded, picking up his feet to collect the glasses. "And you, my friend, are the best."  
"Well aren't we feeling complimentary tonight?"

"Don't get used to it."

"I savour the moment, don't worry."

They fell quiet as Tamaki poured the drinks, and tapped their glasses together in a mock toast. Whereas Tamaki downed his almost immediately, however, Kyoya merely tapped the rim of him own full glass against his bottom lip contemplatively.

"So tell me – why all this wondering?"

The Ootori heir hesitated, speaking after a minute of silence. "Wherever Death is depicted, it is usually as something that inspires terror. A skeleton with a scythe, usually wearing a long dark robe."

"Like Nekozawa-Senpai?"

"That's right. But what if it's more than that? Death is only ever hard on the people left behind."

Tamaki surveyed his friend with unusually somber eyes, and then nodded with a sigh. "I do believe you're right, Kyoya."

They fell victims to the silence once more, lost in their own thoughts until Kyoya stood and moved to the window. "Tomorrow night we pay our respects to my mother. We'll pray, eat and retire, and when I go to wish my father goodnight I shall hear his speech on how unfair it was that she died, and that it was my fault, like every year."

Tamaki wisely remained silent, sensing that now was not the right time to speak.

"You know she was sick. For the longest time. And it _was _my fault – I was born too early and it made her weak. She got one infection after another until she never recovered, and then she was gone."

The brunet wandered back to the sofa and perched on the arm, staring into his tumbler as if he could see the events inside it as they had played out twelve years ago. "That's how I prefer to remember it."

Tamaki started at that, sitting straighter in his seat and narrowing his eyes in his best friends' direction. "What do you mean?"

"She suffered so much, Tamaki." He closed his eyes, a single tear escaping it prison, though he made no move to catch it. "I remember how she used to scream in pain, that it hurt so much, that it just _wasn't fair_. She wished she could die, just to stop it."

There was nothing the blond could say, so instead he reached out a hand, clasping it around Kyoya's wrist in support. The other boy opened his eyes and looked over at the contact, watching the pale hand as if he had never seen it before.

"When I die, Suoh-San, I shall take Death by the hand," He slipped his wrist out of Tamaki's grip and replaced it with his fingers, interlacing their fingers and squeezing tight. "I shall take Death by the hand and I shall _thank_ him for taking her. I shall _thank_ him for easing her suffering, because I believe Death is a good being."

Tamaki squeezed his hand a little tighter.

Kyoya smiled.


End file.
